


It's Time (Make It Count)

by ShippersList



Series: Whumptober 2018 [23]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Magic, Self-Sacrifice, Whumptober 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-07 01:54:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16399184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippersList/pseuds/ShippersList
Summary: Sheriff Stilinski made a decision and Stiles absolutely hated it.Whumptober prompt: Self-sacrifice





	It's Time (Make It Count)

Stiles didn’t mean to eavesdrop.

Honest.

Well, okay, he did. But only because it was his dad and Derek behind closed doors again, looking guilty as hell when he caught them, and being generally suspicious. So, yeah. He did eavesdrop.

And he seriously hoped he hadn’t because magic and sacrifice and death and—

 

* * *

 

Stiles being Stiles, he managed about seventeen and half minutes after they’d sat down for dinner.

”Are you going to die?” He blurted.

Derek dropped his gaze to his plate, suddenly extremely interested in his mashed potatoes.

His dad let out a sigh. ”Yes,” he said with a steady voice.

”Dad, what the hell?”

Noah set his fork down, shared a look with Derek, and took a deep breath. ”Do you remember the freak storm we had last March?” He waited for Stiles’s nod before continuing, ”That’s when this started. Now, I’m not an expert in magic, but even I knew that when odd black lines start creeping through the bushes and freak people out, it’s not exactly natural.” He shrugged, a move that was a bit too casual for Stiles’s liking. ”So, I consulted Deaton and Peter, and—”

”You did _what?”_

”I told you he wouldn’t like it,” Derek muttered.

Stiles jerked to look at him. ”You—you knew?” He stammered. ”You knew and didn’t tell me? You fucker!”

”Stiles—” his dad started but Stiles whirled around to face him, suddenly furious.

”No!” He snapped jabbing his forefinger at him. ”No. You don’t get to say anything. Neither of you. I can’t— I—” He swallowed and shook his head. ”You know what? Fuck you both.” He pushed himself to stand up with a move that made his chair scrape loudly against the floor and stormed out.

For a moment, he entertained the idea of getting into his Jeep and just driving somewhere, _anywhere_ but here. He even made it far enough to lean his forehead against the Jeep’s side. He stopped there to pant, trying and failing to get his breathing under control even though he felt like drowning. His world started to tilt sideways so he slid to sit on the damp ground, leaning his side against the car and burying his face against his knees.

That’s where his dad found him a short moment later, having the kind of a panic attack he hadn’t had since high school.

”I’m sorry,” Noah said as he sat gingerly down beside Stiles. His knees let out a creaking sound. Stiles wondered if it was a new thing or if they’d been like that for years and he just hadn’t noticed.

At the first tentative touch on his shoulder, he turned around and melted into his dad’s embrace. ”I don’t want to lose you,” he hiccuped against dad’s shirt. ”You’re all I have left.”

”Well, that’s just not true,” Noah said mildly and stroked Stiles’s back. ”Don’t be mad at Derek,” he continued a moment later. ”He wanted to tell you since the day he found out but I told him no. I wanted you just…not to worry for a while.”

”How long?” Stiles asked. ”I mean, how long until…” his voice trailed away.

”A month, perhaps two. According to Deaton, it takes about six months for the spell to drain out my life force.”

”Why did you do it?” Stiles asked in a small voice.

His dad hugged him closer and pressed a kiss on top of his head. ”Because,” he said like it was just so simple. ”The spell will bind me to the Nemeton and the Nemeton to me. It’s a willingly given sacrifice for the people of this town.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ”I’m doing this because I can. Because it’ll keep you and everyone else safe.”

Stiles swallowed and nodded. The movement rubbed his face against the fabric. ”Does it hurt?”

”Not really. I’m just getting more and more tired. Which is one of the reasons I’ve been talking with Derek a lot lately.”

Stiles raised his head from his dad’s shoulder and frowned. ”And?”

”I’m stepping down soon. I’ve been training Parrish to step in as an acting sheriff and Derek to take over the deputy duties.” He paused to give Stiles a sly smile. ”He’s a good guy, kiddo. Hold on to him, okay?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. ”Yeah, yeah, don’t change the subject. What happens next?”

His dad shrugged. ”I… don’t know. I think I’ll just slow down until I stop.”

”Okay,” Stiles said, nodded, and rubbed his hand across his face. ”Okay. We can do this.”

 

* * *

 

When he went back inside and slowly made it into his room, Derek was sitting on his bed, leaning his elbows on his knees. When Stiles opened the door, he took one glance at Stiles’s face, stood up, and wordlessly opened his arms.

”My dad’s going to die,” Stiles whispered against his chest, clinging to his shirt like it was the only thing keeping him from falling to his knees.

”I know,” Derek said quietly, wrapped his arms around Stiles, and held him tight.

Tomorrow, Stiles would start to plan how to deal with the short time his dad had left.

Tonight, he’d cry and cry, trusting Derek would keep him from drowning.


End file.
